Come Pour the Wine

by Cynthia Freeman

  There was no rancor in Violet’s tone but when Janet hung up she felt terribly guilty. Why, she wasn’t exactly sure. Maybe because Violet had been nice about it … ?

  Violet … sweet Violet …

  At dinner she told Bill, “Darling, Kit wants us to spend the weekend with them, but I spoke to your mother and it seems she’s doing something special for Gwen, sort of a precoming out party, I gather.”

  “I see. And you’ve having all kinds of problems deciding between Long Island and Westchester?”

  “Something like that … yes.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, it’s Westchester. My mother’s not having a big shindig. I know all her little old tricks. She’s got it down to such subtlety that you’re in the palm of her hand before you know it. From now on I’m going to make the ground rules. We’ll go when we feel like it. She has Harriet and Gordon for company and the others are usually around to entertain her on weekends.”

  “You should call her, Bill … more often. She’s getting old and I don’t want you to have any regrets later on, to feel you neglected her.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “How did I get so lucky. You’re some kind of angel—”

  “I wasn’t such an angel last night.”

  “Yes, you were. Later, anyway. Well, not exactly an angel. Sort of half and half.”

  “And what do you mean by that?”

  “Half angel, half sex cat. And all for me … I love both.”

  “You know, I think I’m blushing. Somehow I never think of myself as sexy—”

  “That’s why it ends up so good. You don’t think, you just let it happen naturally.”

  Kit and Nat had made the move to Westchester in near record time, having hired movers even before they took title to the house so they could get settled as quickly as possible after the twins were born. There were still packing crates throughout the house, but Kit had already dragged out enough things to make the place begin to look like a home. Janet knew it would be no time at all before Kit had it looking as if it came straight out of the inspiration of the best interior designer in the business. The furnishings were country antiques, things that Kit and Nat had found during their trip to England. Knowing Kit, Janet thought, she’d probably had Nat up at dawn, honeymoon or no, depleting the English countryside. They had found the perfect fabrics, china and crystal, and every detail, right down to the silver vaults, was testimony to Kit’s taste.

  The house was Tudor, one hundred and fifty years old, situated on three acres of lush green lawn. The nine bedrooms were spacious and sunny; Janet especially adored the old marble washstands and the fireplaces.

  For all its veneer of wealth, this was a house that its new owners would use not as a showplace but as a home to be loved and lived in, Janet thought as she lingered in the nursery.

  Bill watched her face, seeing the longing as she looked down at Deborah through the netting surrounding the cradle. Well, he had to admit—if only to himself for now—that he was as taken with the twins as she was. Soon, he thought. I’ll tell her soon….

  By four that afternoon, Nat’s parents arrived with so many presents that it looked like Christmas and Chanukah all rolled into one. Charles and a now pregnant Carol arrived a short time later, and after cocktails they all moved into the dining room.

  Dinner was marvelous. Kit had engaged a cook while in England, and the woman had brought her recipes along with her baggage.

  “She’s great … how did you manage to lure her away from king and country?” Janet asked.

  “Coin of the U.S. realm, I guess … I predict she’ll be here three or four years at the most, make her bundle and go back to Devon-by-the-Sea.”

  Later they retired to the enormous living room. The four women sat at one end, planning a shower for Carol’s baby, while the men sat at the other end, going over the minor stuff, such as stocks and bonds and the price of oil. But Bill’s interest was really focused on more personal matters tonight.

  “How does the commuting affect you, Nat? Doesn’t it make for a pretty long day?”

  “Not really. I gave up going into the market early. Who needs it? Listen, the best time of my life is now. I’m going to have breakfast with my wife in the morning and take the time to be with my kids. That’s what life’s about. I’m going on thirty-four already, and I want to enjoy every cotton pickin’ minute. You put it off today, you never make it up tomorrow. There’s no price tag on some things … those kids upstairs aren’t traded on the stock exchange.”

  Janet sat close to Bill on the drive back to the city.

  “Wasn’t it a terrific weekend, darling?”

  “One of the best I’ve ever had. But you know why?”

  “Why?”

  “On account of you, us … You know something else? When I looked across the room at you and realized you were my wife, I had the most incredible feeling—”

  “In what way?”

  “That we belonged together. Like the perfect meshing of gears.”

  “‘Gears’? … well, all right, the image isn’t so romantic but I’ll accept the sentiment … also, I happen to love you very much, Mr. McNeil.”

  “It’s mutual, Mrs. McNeil.”

  He drove the rest of the way with one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding tight to hers….

  Bill had just finished undressing that night when Janet came out of the bathroom. He took her hands in his and stood looking down at her. “The time, Mrs. McNeil, is now.”

  “What? What time … ?” But suddenly she knew, and had the grace to say nothing, to let it be his moment.

  “We’re going to make a baby. Isn’t that the phrase?”

  Her eyes appropriately widened.

  “And I want it understood that this has nothing to do with that fight we had the other night … No, you didn’t convince me or intimidate me, and seeing the twins this weekend had nothing to do with my decision. I made up my mind long before that. I want a child … I want to have something that’s part of us. You’re going to be the mother of my son and he’s going to grow up to thank me …”

  He really did want a baby … and that was a surprise. She kissed him over and over again. All over …

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THEY WERE ON THE balcony, looking out over the city and the bridge beyond, when he asked, “What’s your pleasure for your birthday, honey? It’s three weeks away but I thought you’d like to celebrate it with your folks or maybe fly to Mexico. You’re only going to be twenty-two once, you know.”

  “I know, almost over the hill.”

  “True, but you didn’t answer my question. We need to make reservations if we’re going anywhere—”

  “You know what I’d really like? To give a party at our home. I think it’s about time.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m double sure.”

  The next day the first person she called was Violet—who was of the opinion that she should be the one to give Janet a party.

  Janet thanked her, and then thanked her again, and finally said, “It’s an old French custom, handed down from my grand-mother, that the one celebrating her birthday should give it—”

  “Well, I’m not up on French customs and I never heard of anything so … quaint, but if that’s what you want …”

  “It is. Bill and I can’t wait to see you.”

  Betsy was just as surprised as her mother had been that Janet would throw her own birthday party, but she accepted readily. Alice accepted with no comment on the custom and Harriet was openly delighted. Kit, of course, needed no explanation. She’d be there with all bells on. Nat’s mother thanked Janet for including them, and Carol said she and Charles wouldn’t miss it. A clean sweep. Almost.

  When she placed the call to her parents she was not going to take no for an answer. “Mother, there isn’t going to be an epidemic in Kansas just because daddy goes away for a week. And I want Effie to come too.”

  “It will be easier to get your fath
er than her.”

  “Let me talk to her.”

  “Hold on.” Janet waited.

  “Yes, Janet,” Effie said in her usual crisp manner.

  “You’re coming to New York with mother and dad for my birthday. And this is one time, Effie, you’re not going to have the last word.”

  “Don’t be impertinent, young lady, and of course I’m coming. Do you think I’d miss your twenty-second birthday after all I went through?”

  “I love you, Effie.”

  “Of course you do. Now here’s your mother.”

  From that moment on Janet was busy with the preparations of her first dinner party.

  “What do you think, Bill? Since there will be eighteen of us, should we have one long table, or two round? Which would be the most intimate?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re no help at all.”

  “Well, I’ll help in other ways.” He was standing close behind her, his hands moving over her breasts and his lips grazing her neck.

  “Don’t distract me. I’m thinking …”

  “Oh, let me distract you.”

  “You’re not serious about this at all.”

  “Of course I am,” he said, kissing her as he turned her to face him and drew the zipper of her robe slowly downward.

  After consulting with Kit, she decided on one table rather than two, and the catering company delivered it along with gilt Vienna chairs. This was the first time she would be using her wedding gifts. The most prized among them was a fine Limoges service for twenty-four, that and the magnificent Baccarat crystal candelabras and matching epergne and the heavy lace cloth, which had been wedding presents from one generation to the next going back to her great-grandmother’s time. They would be handed down to her daughter, Janet thought … and suddenly she found herself about to cry.

  Bill walked in just then and saw her wiping at her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m just so incredibly happy, darling.”

  “And so naturally you’re crying.” He shook his head and pulled her to him. “Now let’s stop all this happy crying or your folks will think I beat you. Better go put some powder on your nose. We have to pick them up at the airport in forty-five minutes.

  The morning of her birthday she was awakened by a kiss from Bill.

  “That’s probably the best early morning birthday gift I’ll ever get,” she said, reaching out to him.

  “No question,” he said, placing a breakfast tray over her legs. “I’m not exactly what you call a great chef, but accept the thought. It’s better than the eggs, I assure you.”

  “Oh, Bill, you’re a fraud. I’ll never tell, but you’re more sentimental than I am.”

  “No, birthday girl, you get the Nobel Prize for that….”

  At exactly eleven in the morning the caterer came with her assistants, followed shortly thereafter by the florist and housekeeper. Everything was sailing along smoothly, Janet thought as she put on a pink silk dress and left the apartment to meet Bill, her parents and Effie for lunch.

  Bill was late, and while they waited for him they chatted over cocktails in the dimly lit restaurant. This, Janet knew, was a day she would long remember. She had Bill and her family around her, and the evening to come would seal the contentment she felt, would allow her to share it with those who meant most to her.

  Bill rushed in, apologizing for being late and explaining he’d been tied up in a conference.

  Martha laughed. “Don’t apologize, Bill. Your father-in-law certainly doesn’t. He’s stood me up so often that when he is on time I get suspicious.”

  “I can understand that, mother. Daddy’s not a bad-looking old gent,” Janet said, giving him a wink.

  Her mother gave an exaggerated sigh and put on a look of forbearance. “Well, dear, it’s the risk a woman takes when she marries a handsome brute like your father, or Bill.”

  Bill and Dr. Stevens exchanged amused glances. “I suspect the ladies are putting us on,” Dr. Stevens said, “not that I don’t love every word of it. Now, let’s order something to toast the birthday girl.”

  Bill signaled the sommelier and ordered a bottle of Mumm’s.

  After they had toasted Janet’s health, Dr. Stevens shook his head and looked at Janet fondly, but the humor she saw in his eyes made her wonder what he was up to. “Twenty-two years old already … Seems like yesterday I was pacing the floor waiting for you to …”

  Janet smiled at what she knew was coming.

  “James, dear, you weren’t pacing.” This from her mother.

  “I wasn’t?”

  “No, Janet was three hours old when you came rushing down the hall into my room dressed in your surgical garb.”

  “You even remember that, do you?”

  “I certainly do. You stayed with me for about five minutes, then rushed out to answer a page.”

  “Is that what I did?”

  After so many years together, her parents knew exactly which buttons to push for which response, but it was a game they played with a good-natured seriousness, as if making fun of themselves at the same time they were reaffirming all they had shared over the years.

  “Well,” Dr. Stevens went on, “here’s to my beautiful daughter … Happy I’m not late for this occasion.”

  “Thank you, daddy. Me too.”

  Effie had been silently taking it all in, but now Dr. Stevens said, “Let’s hear something from Effie.”

  “Oh … well, I don’t set much store in just being pretty. Got to be a real person and Janet’s that. Didn’t think anybody’d be good enough … but you found you a country fair husband.” Her pronouncement complete, she sat back and folded her arms, but her face was mottled from the embarrassment of paying a compliment, however sincerely felt.

  Bill looked at his watch. It was quarter of two and he had to get back to the office. He kissed Janet, said his good-bys and was gone.

  As they lingered over coffee, Dr. Stevens said, “I agree with Effie—you have quite a fine young man, Janet. I suppose it’s the hope of every parent to see his child settled in life. You two have your own special world now. Nothing compared to that, is there? I don’t know why I’m asking. All anyone has to do is look at your face.”

  Janet smiled and looked down at the table. “I didn’t know it was that obvious … I still have to keep kicking myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

  It was two-thirty when Dr. Stevens motioned to the waiter for the check. “Well, I’d say this is the longest lunch I ever took—”

  “It’s been good for you, James. Now we’d better let Janet go. I know she has a lot of last-minute things to do before tonight.”

  Indeed she did. She had to stop at Godiva’s for chocolates, then race over to a Madison Avenue gourmet shop to pick up some fancy frilled toothpicks for the hors d’oeuvres and some other odds and ends, and then to her dressmaker on 57th and Fifth Avenue to pick up her gown. By the time she hailed a cab for the ride home she was ready to collapse.

  After depositing her purchases with the caterer, she was walking through the living room on her way to take a bath when she saw the roses Bill had sent. “Twenty-two for the love of my life,” the card read.

  As Kit might say, she’d buy that.

  By five she was dressed in her mauve silk gown and waiting nervously for Bill. There wasn’t a picture, a pillow out of place, but she walked from room to room and back again, inspecting.

  When she heard Bill’s key in the latch she ran to him. “Darling, the flowers are lovely. Thank you.”

  She looked flushed, radiant, and Bill had the feeling there was something somehow different about her, not disturbing but … different. But all he said was, “No more so than you. Now, I’d better take a quick shower if I’m going to be ready for my debut as a family host … too bad you’re all gussied up, we could have taken a shower together.”

  “Is that a standing invitation?”

  “Hey! I’m not touching that line!” he answered as she
led him by the hand into the bedroom.

  His suit, shirt and tie were laid out on the bed, black socks were actually tucked inside his shoes.

  Once he’d showered and dressed, they stood together surveying the living room. Their turf.

  Janet’s heart skipped a beat when the bell rang and Bill opened the door on the McNeil family.

  Violet was regal in a gray lace dress and pearls. She kissed Bill first, then turned to congratulate Janet. “Happy birthday, dear. You look lovely.”

  “Thank you. I’m so pleased you’re here. And Betsy, darling …”

  After all the greetings to the McNeil clan, they walked into the living room and settled down with cocktails.

  The Stevenses and Effie arrived a few minutes later, Mrs. Stevens wearing a striking emerald green satin dress and Effie the same dress she’d worn to Janet’s wedding.

  The rest of her guests arrived shortly afterward, and as Janet greeted them she thought it was beginning to look like a fashion parade. Kit was wearing flowing black chiffon, her raven hair swept back into a soft chignon. Carol’s pregnancy had given her a lusty glow highlighted by her demure white maternity dress, and Mrs. Weiss, in a rose satin taffeta, wore star rubies for her elegantly coiffed white hair. All this finery set the stage for a very special evening.

  Soon there was a buzz of conversation as the drinks and hors d’oeuvres were passed … “You look like a combination of the Cheshire cat and the Mona Lisa,” Kit told Janet.

  “I don’t know what I look like,” she said with a laugh. “All I know is what I feel—which I guess is what they call wedded bliss. I must be looking really loopy, because my father said practically the same thing to me this afternoon.”

  “The miracle is the way Bill is acting. Like an old professional husband. I’d never have believed it. But the shockeroo is Mama Violet. I could be wrong but I think she really likes you. It goes to show, I guess, don’t ever try to second-guess people …”

  Their conversation was interrupted by Betsy. “Congratulations, Kit. I mean about the twins.”